AN: Wow, so it's been like, four months? I'm ashamed, lol. But, here's an extra-long chapter for you guys. There's actually a lot in this. Some of it isn't very pretty but it needed to be done to set up the rest, so blah. Here it is. Also, this might upset people. I don't know. (laughs in angst)

Usual warnings apply. I own nothing, as always.

Please forgive any errors. It's late, I'm tired, and this is long for me. I might edit later if I find anything big.

winterschild11: Thank you! And yes, I agree. So many people think that being cheerful automatically means a person is stupid, which I just can't understand. Why wouldn't someone want to be cheerful as much as they can be?

James had never actually gotten the whole story. His mother flat-out refused to discuss it. Macey had been younger then, and James wasn't sure how to press the issue without making things worse. And, obviously, he hadn't been in contact with Gwen.

He'd actually had a good day at school; practice went well, and he and the guys intended to head to the public rink that evening; it was a Thursday, but the following school day had been cancelled for a teacher in-service program, so they could stay out considerably later. It was Macey's day at their mother's too, which meant Brooke would be preoccupied with the girls and much more inclined to allow James to do as he pleased.

He could hear the shouting when he reached the front door, and he quickly headed inside, concerned. His mother could be heard scolding someone, presumably one of the girls but James wasn't sure which since neither were in sight. It had gone on for several minutes after James put his bag down and sat at the dining room table (because really, who in their right mind would want to go upstairs when Brooke Diamond was clearly in a rage?) until Gwen had come barreling down the stairs, keys in hand and shoving her phone in her back pocket. She'd been crying and looked less than steady, but James couldn't smell anything on her and that made him nervous. She was high more often than not, but he didn't even know what she used anymore.

She grabbed the doorknob, stopping when she saw James and pausing for a moment. Her eyes were bloodshot.

"Watch out for the kid," she'd muttered, referring to Landon, "and get away from her when you can." Then she'd yanked open the door and disappeared outside.

James had moved to follow, but she'd already gotten into her car and peeled out of the driveway by the time he reached the door frame.

He didn't see her again until two and a half weeks ago.

The general story, from what he'd gathered, was that Gwen had driven Macey home from school, since Brooke was running late at work. When she arrived home, she'd found the girls in the bathroom, Gwen with her fingers down her throat teaching Macey to purge in much the same manner she'd taught James just a year or two before. Ironically, James was perturbed she'd dredged up such a bad habit again (quite hypocritical of himself considering his current situation), though he knew Gwen was, without a doubt, high as a kite since Macey was probably the least concerned with appearance out of the three. And James had borrowed her laptop for homework enough times to know that such topics didn't litter her search history.

Their mother, of course, had exploded and kicked Macey out of the room so she could thoroughly rip into her eldest child. The fight had gravitated into Gwen's bedroom, where their mother had apparently smelt the marijuana — or whatever the heck Gwen had in there. It didn't even smell like weed anymore. Her bedroom reeked. James avoided it at all costs.

Dresser drawers had been yanked open and the mattress had been overturned until their mother gathered most, if not all, of Gwen's stash (to this day James didn't know what was in there, and his mother wouldn't tell him). It had triggered an entirely new argument, which consisted of 1. Why did Gwen have drugs in the first place and 2. Why on earth would she drive high with her ten-year-old sister in the car?!

It downgraded into a what-I-hate-about-you style fight, and their mother more or less told Gwen she could leave if she wanted to, and so she did.

"Watch out for the kid," that phrase and the pitying look she'd given him before she left were the only things still convincing James that his sister didn't despise them. She didn't get along with their parents but surely things would be different with her siblings. The rudeness she'd shown recently was probably because she'd been high as a kite on meth, and wasn't personal.

Yeah, right.

He pushed open the ajar door to her hospital room the next morning, only to be met with his mother's angry voice snapping, "Oh, for the love of. . ." She trailed off as her son came into view, and pressed a hand to her forehead.

James froze, eyeing them awkwardly as an uncomfortable silence fell. "Do you want me to go?" he eventually asked, looking to his mother.

She sighed. "Of course not," she replied. He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic. "Maybe you can talk some sense into her."

"I'm not going to rehab," Gwen spat, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the pillows on the bed. She looked considerably more coherent than last night, but just as peeved. James gingerly took a seat on a chair across from the bed, wincing. This would not be a pretty conversation.

Brooke sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Gwen, so help me, I will disown you."

"You've already disowned me!"

"I will take you out of the will, and I'll make sure your father does the same!"

". . .What am I getting?"

James' jaw dropped. "Gwen!"

"Hey, it's a valid question!"

"And one that's none of your business!" Brooke snapped, eyes wide.

"Show it to me."

Their mother paused. "Excuse me?"

"Show it to me. Then maybe I'll go."

"I don't have to show you anything."

"Then I don't go. I'll walk out and you can foot the bill."

James dropped his head into his hands, unable to look his mother in the eye. His mother put so much pressure on him to succeed in life. And this?

This was one of the moments he sort of understood why.

For probably one of the first times in her life, Brooke Diamond was speechless, eyes flitting between her two eldest children in both shock and hurt. She hesitated, then made for the door, slipping into the hallway without a word. James could've sworn he saw her swipe at her eyes as she closed the door behind her.

The room fell deathly silent, the quiet only broken by the beeping of Gwen's heart monitor. James kept his eyes on the door for quite some time before turning to his sister.

". . .What is wrong with you. . ." He didn't even say it angrily. He didn't have the energy to. It came out so quietly he wasn't even sure she'd heard it until she answered.

"She makes us miserable," she replied quietly with a shrug. She stood gingerly, padding over to the window and crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm just giving it back to her."

James' eyes narrowed, and he stood. "Yeah, that's what you always do. You tick her off and you walk away and you leave me and Macey to deal with the fallout. You get her in a horrible mood and then she comes at us twice as hard. It's not fair to us."

"It's not."

"It's not!"

"Of course it's not!" she snapped, turning to face him. "It's not fair that mom made dad miserable! It's not fair that he caved and slept with a waitress on the way home from my cheer competition! It's not fair that he had to do the right thing and marry her and split us all up!" She stepped towards him, eyes bloodshot and watery. "And it's really not fair that you and Macey got to hide in your rooms and sulk while I had to help mom with her stupid parties! It isn't fair that you two got to talk to school guidance counselors while mom yelled at me for telling my coach what was going on! It's not fair that I spent three years getting high just so I didn't have to feel like I was a waste of air! And it's totally not fair that the only time Mom ever noticed there was something freaking wrong with me was when I got Macey involved!"

She began to cry, hugging her arms to herself as she glared at him. "So, yeah. It's not fair that now that I've finally got to a point where I'm just a little bit happy, she's butting her nose in, acting like she cares the way she always does." She paused, turning back to face the window and taking a long shaky breath. "Everything that we are? It's because of them. They messed everything up, and they act like we owe them something. So yeah, Jay Jay. It isn't fair."

And James didn't even have an argument, because he agreed with her.

"Did you know that there is a cow and bison hybrid in some parts of the world?"

The fact, as usual, came from out of nowhere, and Kendall turned to briefly give Logan a confused look as they walked. "What?"

Logan smirked, clutching his "365 Interesting Facts You'll Probably Care About if You Have No Life" book in his hand. "Guess what it's called," he challenged as they passed through the automatic doors of the hospital lobby.

James was already there, as he'd sent them a text that morning. Kendall had thought it wise to give the Diamonds some space, and elected not to bring himself and the other guys in until closer to the afternoon. Even now, they could just walk the corridors until James was free. They wanted to be supportive without treading.

Carlos, meanwhile, was up to Logan's challenge. "Oh oh oh, a cison?"

"Nope."

"Bow?"

"No."

"A coison? Ha, that sounds French!"

Logan smirked again. "It's a beefalo."

Carlos narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "You made that up."

"I did not!" He shoved the book in Carlos' face as they passed the front desk. A large screen hung on its front, displaying the time, date, and weather. "It's right here, se-" He was abruptly cut off as both he and Carlos suddenly crashed into Kendall's back.

The blonde was still, eyes wide as he suddenly took a few steps back to stare at the screen on the front desk.

"Guys," he said shakily.

"What?"

"It's today."

Logan's brow furrowed. "Uh, yeah?"

"It's almost three o'clock."

Carlos nodded. "Yeah?"

Kendall turned to face them, face white. "We were supposed to be on a plane this morning!"

Logan shrieked, immediately moving to bite his nails as Carlos began to panic. "Oh, man! Gustavo's gonna kill us! That's it! He's gonna kill us and-"

"We have to call him," Kendall said quickly, running a hand through his hair.

"That's a good idea," Logan agreed, nodding. "You should call him."

"Me?! I'm the one that's called him the entire time we've been here! One of you guys do it!"

"I've got an idea!" Carlos shouted. He dug around in his back pocket for a few seconds before producing several uneven strands of licorice. He held them out in his fist. "We can draw for it again."

Logan stared at him, aghast. "That's it? No wrapper, no bag. Just licorice in your back pocket?!"

"And it's delicious."

"Guys, focus!" Kendall chided. "EVerybody grab a piece."

"But I hate drawing licorice," Logan whined. "I always get the shortest one."

"I bet you won't this time."

Logan looked at him earnestly. "You think so?"

Kendall nodded reassuringly. "You bet."

Logan sighed, defeated. "Okay. Here goes."

"Ugh, why do I always get the shortest one?!" Logan groaned as he shakily dialed the cell phone in his hand.

Across the hallway, Carlos draped his feet over the arm of the sofa as he slurped a licorice piece like a strand of spaghetti. "Sucks to be you, I guess."

Logan winced as the phone began to ring. "Oh, he's gonna kill us. . ." he muttered. Carlos sat up attentively, almost eager.

"Dogs, where are you?!" Gustavo's voice boomed through the speaker the moment the call connected.

Logan immediately cowered, biting his lip and nearly letting out a whimper. "Gustavo, we're really really sorry. Look James' family is having some-"

"Are you a part of James' family? Does this involve you?"

". . .Is that a trick question, because it kind of doe-"

"NO! IT DOES NOT!" He began to rant, calling out everything from their inability to do anything on time to their lack of commitment when preparing for a show.

Carlos suddenly stood, reaching behind the couch and producing a large set of white posters. He held one up, realized it was upside down, then flipped it.

You can do it! it read in big, bold letters.

Logan stared at him, confused. "When did you even write those?!" he hissed, covering the phone with his hand as Gustavo continued to spew obscenities

Carlos switched signs again, this time to one reading, Courage is the opposite of fear.

Logan rolled his eyes. Well, how insightful.

The younger boy began to shuffle through several posters, each containing a cheesy phrase of encouragement, or an attempt at one. He was almost about to laugh when Gustavo fell silent before yelling, "Are you listening to me?!"

Logan cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, yeah of course," he stammered, glancing at Carlos in confusion. "Why does his voice sound so close?" he whispered.

Carlos froze, pointing behind the taller boy with a fearful expression. Logan, confused, ignored him. "Gustavo-" he tried to interject.

The producer, of course, was having none of it, and continued yelling. Again, Carlos pointed behind Logan frantically. The taller boy only looked more confused, growing slightly annoyed as he tried to pay attention to his friend as well as Gustavo's tirade.

"Are you listening to me?!"

"Pssst! Logan!"

Logan sent Carlos a harsh glare before sputtering a quick, "What?" into his phone.

"ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!" the voice boomed directly in his other ear, and Logan whirled around, shrieking as he came face to face-to-face with their red-faced producer and an admonishing Freight Train.

"You couldn't have warned me?!" he yelled at Carlos.

The younger boy reeled. "Are you serious? What do you think this" he gestured wildly in Gustavo's direction "means?!"

"SHUT UP!" Gustavo shouted, taking a menacing step forward. "You guys were supposed to be on a plane this morning!"

Freight Train nodded. "That's right!"

"YOU got on the plane WITHOUT THEM!"

"It was an honest mistake!"

"You were missing FOUR PEOPLE!" He turned back to the boys, glaring even more angrily. "Well?! What do you have to say for yourselves?!"

"Uhhhh," Logan stammered. He fiddled in his back pocket before producing something mangled and stringy. "Licorice?"

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I WANT LICORICE?!" Gustavo yelled. "Where's James' mother?!"

"A202," Carlos answered, whimpering as Gustavo began heading down the hallway. He jumped in front of him, hands outstretched. "I-I wouldn't go in there, man! You know how she gets! You've seen her!"

Gustavo shoved him aside, clearly determined. "Will you two relax?! You think I'm going to argue with her right now? I'm going to talk to her. I am capable of having a conversation, you know." He stalked off in the direction of the room, leaving the boys standing nervously in the hallway.

We're sorry man," Carlos said later, eyeing James with a pitying look as he set his tray down.

It had been decided, quite without their opinions, that he, Kendall, and Logan would be returning to Los Angeles that evening on a red eye flight with Gustavo. James was permitted to stay in Duluth overnight, giving him time to speak with his father and settle any business with his mother before flying back.

They really had no choice. Griffin, for all that they couldn't stand the man, had been surprisingly accommodating. He'd given them almost three weeks off. James, he said, was more than welcome to take a few more weeks, but the other boys needed to get back to work. Gustavo was determined to bring James back to L.A., however, though none of them knew why.

Of course, if it would get him away from the nagging harassment of his mother, it was fine by them.

He was actually, in a rare show of defiance, disobeying her orders just by sitting there. She'd put him in charge of the girls while she took Gustavo on a "walk" (Brooke Diamond code for "I'm going to tear him a new one), but his sisters had predictably started arguing, and James couldn't take one more thing. He'd left the room and come down to the ground floor to join them in the cafeteria, though he was only picking at the rather disgusting-looking salad he'd bought.

Logan cut a piece of pink meat from his burger and pushed it aside before he nodded in agreement with Carlos' previous statement. "If you want, we could talk to him-"

"No," James said quietly, shaking his head. "It won't do any good. And I can't do anything here anyways. We might as well just go back."

"You know, they put the paper online now," Kendall added. "We can check it everyday. And I'm sure Carlos' dad can keep us up-to-date too, right?"

The younger boy nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, definitely."

"That's probably not going to make my mom any less angry."

Kendall sighed. "James, ignore her for like, a few minutes would you? You have a job. You have to go back to it at some point. She's going back to hers, why shouldn't you go back to yours?"

James sighed, opening his mouth to answer when the cafeteria doors swung open. His mother stormed in, face pinched in the glare she reserved for extremely bad behavior. He inwardly sighed, throwing his fork down and leaning his head in his hands as she reached the table.

"James, how hard is it to understand me? I said stay with the girls so they don't kill each other. Now Gwen's a mess and won't talk to me, I have no idea where Macey, and yet here you are, having a nice lunch with your friends! I ask one thing, and you can't even-"

Kendall suddenly stood, pushing his chair back so hard it rocked onto its back legs and nearly tipped over. "Oh my gosh," he muttered, lifting his gaze to meet Brooke's harsh one. "Can you maybe get off his back for five minutes?!"

The group fell deathly silent. James didn't raise his head, partially afraid of his mother and partially afraid she would actually kill Kendall right there in front of several tables of people. Logan froze, a hand over his mouth as he watched with wide eyes beside an open-mouthed Carlos.

Brooke seemed to reel, narrowing her eyes in both shock and anger as she redirected her focus to Kendall. "Excuse me."

Kendall flushed an unhealthy shade of red under her gaze, and he struggled to keep his voice steady. "Ya know, maybe if you'd actually parented your kids, you wouldn't have to rely on James so much to do it for you! Get in there, get a backbone and deal with whatever issues they're having, and stop blaming all your messes on him!"

James had never wanted to disintegrate more than he did in that moment. His mother said nothing, staring Kendall down as he fixed her with an equally, if not angrier gaze.

Eventually she straightened up, turning back to James with an icy look. "Sweetie," she said, clearly sarcastic. "When you've finished having lunch with these idiots you call friends, come back to the room. We need to talk." She turned away, sending Kendall another nasty glance before heading for the doors.

"I'm sorry, man," Kendall apologized once she was out of earshot, sitting down and staring unappetizingly down at his sandwich. "I just can't stand it. You can't let her talk to you like that."

James said nothing, just giving a shrug and gathering his trash onto his still full tray and rising from his seat.

Kendall gave him a pointed look. "James, you need to eat."

"I'll eat at home"

"Don't let her do this to you, dude."

"She's not doing anything," James huffed. "She's just stressed. She doesn't mean it." He headed for the trash bins, clearly finished with the conversation.

"If that's the case," Kendall muttered. "Then she's been stressed for the last eighteen years."

James didn't think he'd ever felt so alone as he did the next morning, as one of the young police officers led him through the station and through a metal, likely bullet-proof door that separated the holding cells of the county jail from the attached station. The hall was a bleary gray, with a few warning signs posted as they reached the door and the officer scanned his ID card. The padlock buzzed, emitting a small clicking noise before the man pulled it open. He motioned for James to enter, and he did, moving awkwardly off to the side as the man followed.

A few chairs were placed at a counter, facing corresponding chairs on the other side of a glass barrier. A small partition housing an old landline phone separated each area from the others.

The man pointed to a chair on the far left. "Sit there," he instructed, though not unkindly.

James complied, settling into the uncomfortable chair and eyeing the phone on the wall with unease. Was this how he was supposed to speak to his father? He couldn't even hug him goodbye?

The police officer headed back towards the door, crossing his arms at his chest and taking up an intimidating stance in front of the exit. He faced straight ahead. James grimaced. Would he be there the whole time?

They remained in an awkward silence for a few minutes before a door at the end of a hallway on the other side of the glass made a similar clicking noise, and another officer entered, this time leading a handcuffed Andrew Diamond.

His father looking absolutely terrible; unshaven, unkept, and it looked as though he'd been crying. The officer led him to the chair opposite James, settling him into it before taking up a stance similar to his coworker's by the hall.

James didn't move, hesitantly lifting his gaze to meet his father's as both men sat in silence. His father looked just as uncomfortable as he did, if not more so, and James' eyes flickered to the men by the doors. How were they supposed to have a private conversation? Surely his father was still entitled to that.

Andrew picked up the phone on his side and held it to his ear, and James reluctantly did the same. For a moment, neither spoke. James swallowed hard, unable to trust his voice would come out steady.

"Hey, kiddo," his father eventually said, voice rough.

James cleared his throat. "Hey, dad." His voice quivered, coming out as little more than a whisper.

His son's nervousness seemed to affect Andrew, who cleared his throat rather forcefully before continuing. "How's your ma?"

"S-she's okay." As okay as his mother normally was, anyway.

"And the girls? She said there was a accident. What happened?"

"Um. . .G-Gwen ran a light. They're fine though." He paused a bit awkwardly before adding, "Gwen's going to rehab."

His father apparently hadn't known that, and there was a long pause before he spoke again. "Well, that's good then."

James nodded, because it technically was. She needed it, but she wasn't accepting it. He supposed that last part didn't really matter, though.

"Listen," his father began, ending another awkward silence. "I know you have to go back. . .but you're the man of the house now, okay?"

James shook his head, biting his lip. "Dad-"

"You gotta look after everybody. Your mom's a tough cookie but I worry about your sisters." He paused sadly. "I worry about you too."

Tears welled in James' eyes, and he hurried to blink them away. "Dad, I won't be here."

"I know that," Andrew replied. He didn't seem angry, but his next words were stern nonetheless. "But even when you're not here, I need you to be here. Your mom can't do this all on her own. I need you to look out for them. Make sure they're safe. I won't be there to do it so I need you to."

As if James didn't already feel horrible about leaving. His father's words made him feel impossibly worse, and he struggled to keep from crying as the man continued.

"You know how much I love you, right?" Andrew swallowed hard, appearing to blink back his own tears. "And how proud I am? I'm so, so proud of you, Jamie. You have no idea. You're a much better man than I am."

"I'm not," James countered, a tear running down his cheek.

"Yeah, you are. You're-"

"Time's up," the guard announced gruffly, catching James off guard. The guard on his father's side must have said the same thing, because Andrew got an angry look on his face before turning back to his son.

"Be careful, Jamie."

James bit his lip, struggling to steady his voice. He nodded instead.

His father gave him a steely nod before hanging up his phone and allowing the guard to come forward and lead him away. He didn't look back, but James found himself unable to look away.

"Call me when you land."

James heaved his suitcase into the car, closing the trunk before turning to face his mother. He nodded. "I will."

Brooke leaned up to give him a rare kiss on the cheek before putting on a business-like smile. She was still angry about the cafeteria incident the day before, and she had no problem letting him know it. "Have fun with your friends," she said a bit coldly.

James sighed, trying to ignore the knot rising in his stomach. "Mom, I have to go."

"Oh I know you do. Meanwhile, I have to stay here and wrangle the girls while trying to get your father out of jail. But you go on ahead and sing, honey. That's what's important." She stalked off, unlocking her own car as she approached it. "Have a good flight," she called, not even bothering to look over her shoulder.

James struggled to keep from letting out a sob, instead yanking open the limo door and climbing shakily inside. Freight Train, who'd been waiting for him and who had clearly heard most if not all of the conversation, gave him a sympathetic look.

"Look man, she's just stressed. I'm sure she doesn't mean it."

James nodded. "Yeah, that's it," he replied, turning to face the window as the driver pulled away. They rode in silence, Freight Train unsure of what to say and James unable to speak for fear he'd either lash out or burst into tears. He'd never wanted to smoke more than he did right now.

It was a horrible feeling.

The ride to airport was quick, and James winced to see a few reporters already lined up by the main entrance, undoubtedly waiting for him. He grabbed his carryon, strapping it around his shoulders and grumbling about why they couldn't just leave him alone, when his phone buzzed on the seat beside him. Thinking it was a message from the guys, he flicked it open. It was a news notification.

Never before in his entire life had James wished he hadn't been born until that moment.

JUST IN: Andrew Diamond, father of Big Time Rush vocalist James Diamond, confesses to murder of six-year-old son.

AN: So that happened.

Also, apparently there IS a cow/bison hybrid somewhere in the world. I do not know the name of it. These were horrible guesses.

God bless you guys. Much love.

-downtonabbey15